


An Officer And A Gentleman

by PureShores



Series: The Gentleman [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love lost and love found, Post Season 3, established deckerstar, past Charlotte/Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 19:56:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15692310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PureShores/pseuds/PureShores
Summary: The first of two followups to 'A Gentleman's Agreement.' Dan meets Amenadiel, to discuss life, death, and Charlotte. Garnished with Deckerstar.





	An Officer And A Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

> I was thrilled and gobsmacked at the wonderful response I got to ‘A Gentleman’s Agreement.’ Thank you all so much for your wonderful comments and kudos. As a new writer in a fandom, it is great to be welcomed so heartily.
> 
> I received quite a few requests for a follow up describing Dan and Amenadiel’s meeting at Lux, and the birthday weekend. Chronologically, the birthday weekend should have come first but I hope you’ll forgive me the indulgence of tackling the meeting first instead. 
> 
> I really hope you will enjoy this piece, and thank you so much for reading it.

Dan’s a little late to Lux on Tuesday night. Trixie’s sitter gets stuck in traffic, and then when he finally gets to Lux there’s an argument with the bouncer about whether he’s on the list or not. It’s never been a problem before because the few times he’s been here, he’s come with Chloe, who all the staff instantly recognise on sight.

After about ten minutes, a flash of his police badge, and a call to Lucifer that (of course) goes unanswered, it eventually transpires that he _is_ on the list, just not as Dan Espinoza, but as ‘Detective Douche.’

Sometimes he really hates Lucifer.

When the guffawing bouncer eventually waves him through, he enters the club and approaches the bar. It’s early to be at a nightclub, and he’s never seen it so empty before. There are only about fifty people around, nursing drinks, gearing themselves up for a big night out. Within the hour, he knows this place will be packed to the rafters, crammed with people wanting to party with the legendary Lucifer Morningstar. He used to wonder what it was about Lucifer that made people flock to him so, but he supposes it’s part and parcel of the whole Devil thing.

No doubt the Devil himself will make an appearance at some stage, he never can resist the lure of showing off.

The bartender’s ear-to-ear grin when he approaches makes him suspect that the bouncer has already relayed the ‘douche’ incident to the rest of the staff. He orders a whiskey and holds out a twenty-dollar bill. To his surprise, the bartender waves the money away and presses the drink into his hand.

“You’re good, man, you don’t pay here.”

“What?”

“Didn’t they tell you at the door? You drink for free. Boss’ orders.”

“What?!”

He and Lucifer are on better terms these days, sure. But that doesn’t necessarily translate to getting unlimited access to Lucifer’s top-shelf booze for nothing, whenever he wants.

“You and the boss must be tight,” the bartender comments, idly, wiping down the bar with a cloth. “Only about three other people are on the free drink list.”

Dan’s not sure what to make of that statement. Are he and Lucifer friends now?

How the hell did _that_ happen?

* * *

 

In a state of bewilderment, Dan takes his free whiskey and scans the room for Amenadiel. He’s only met Lucifer’s brother once or twice, but he should be easy enough to spot. He and Lucifer are equally imposing, albeit in different ways. While Lucifer has an explosive temper and blatant disregard for rules and convention, Amenadiel seems to simply emanate some kind of quiet, otherworldly power, just waiting for the excuse to be unleashed. An angel thing, he supposes. All that divine wrath.

He takes a sip of whiskey, and hears the click-clicking of high heels on the hard floor. He turns to see Maze sauntering by, clad in black leather from head to toe, She looks him up and down, smirks.

“Over there,” she says, inclining her head to the left side of the room. Sure enough, there’s Amenadiel, with a drink of his own, patiently waiting.

Dan doesn’t bother asking how she knows. Nor is he inclined to stop and chat. Maze has always freaked him out, sometimes even more than Lucifer. At least Lucifer has an Achilles’ heel, and can occasionally be reasoned with. In his experience, Maze has no such proclivities.

Instead, he gives her a half-nod of thanks and heads over to Amenadiel, who rises to greet him.

“Detective Espinoza.”

“Sorry I’m late. Thanks for meeting with me Mr…uh…”

His brain stalls. How does one address an angel of the Lord? By his title? Does he have a rank? Should he call him Canaan, the human surname he’s adopted? But would that be insulting? What will happen if he _doe_ s insult him? Will Amenadiel smite him?

The angel smiles a little as he agonises, but then takes pity on him.

“Amenadiel is fine. Just Amenadiel.”

“Amenadiel. Right.”

He extends a hand. Amenadiel looks at it curiously for a moment, and then, as though suddenly remembering what he is supposed to do, grasps it in a firm handshake.

Very firm. It’s like shaking hands with a block of concrete.

“I have to say I was surprised to get Luci’s message,” says Amenadiel, as they both take a seat. “He’s generally not one to ask for assistance.”

Dan’s a little thrown by the nickname. It’s such a brotherly thing to do. So _human_ to give a little brother an affectionate nickname. It’s hard to think of Lucifer as a little brother, or answering to somebody other than himself. It’s not the Lucifer he knows.

“He told me he can’t go there himself, which was why he had to ask you.”

Amenadiel takes a long gulp of his drink before answering. “Technically that’s true, but he could change his situation if he really wanted to. Father would forgive him, eventually. But I think Earth has too many inducements for him right now to make him want to leave.”

“And by ‘inducements,’ I guess you mean Chloe?”

Amenadiel gives a tight smile. “It would seem so. But I wouldn’t have believed it, had I not seen it with my own eyes.”

Suddenly, Dan becomes aware of a murmur of interest bubbling through the room. Dan looks over to see Lucifer has entered the club. His staff practically fall over themselves to be the first to give him a drink, and the crowd (that has been growing steadily since Dan arrived) swoons.

Dan knows for a fact that Lucifer has been at the precinct all day, helping Chloe with a case, but he looks as pristine and put-together as if he’s just this moment got dressed in fresh clothes. In comparison, Dan knows he, he is a dishevelled mess.

Lucifer glides through the adoring crowd to the piano in the centre of the room. He takes a seat, raises a glass in response to the enthusiastic applause of his patrons, and strikes up a tune.

It sounds like a classical piece. Dan doesn’t recognise it but that doesn’t mean much. Classic rock is more his shtick. Still, he knows enough about music to realise that it’s a complex piece. Lucifer is a skilful musician. Though he supposes it makes it easier when you’re immortal and have unlimited time to practice.

“He always did like to be the centre of attention.”

Amenadiel is watching his brother play with an odd expression on his face, part pride, and part sadness. His glass is now empty.

Loath as he is to interrupt Amenadiel’s musing, Dan is a little impatient. He came here to talk about Charlotte, not Lucifer. Perhaps it’s time to press the issue.

“He said you were with her when it-when it happened,” he ventures, and sees Amenadiel’s full attention come back to rest on him.

“That’s correct.” Amenadiel casts his eyes downwards. “And there’s something you should know. Charlotte should never have been the victim. Pierce’s bullet was meant for me.”

Dan wasn’t expecting that. He stares into his empty glass as he tries to process this information. All this time, he has thought Charlotte was the intended target, that Pierce had some secret grudge against her that he didn’t know about. That he blindsided her. But she made a choice. She put herself in the path of the bullet. Chose Amenadiel’s life over her own.

“Why did she do that? Why did you let her?” He’s trying (with considerable difficulty) not to be angry with Amenadiel. After all, it was Pierce that fired the fatal shots, not Amenadiel. And he does seem to be sincerely sorry, and shameful.

But still. Amenadiel is an _angel_. Surely he could have done something. Seen it coming.

“I can stop time, but I can’t predict the future,” the angel says, quietly. “Omniscience is my Father’s gift. Not mine. It was over before I even knew what had happened.”

“Was she scared?”

Dan has seen enough gunshot victims in his line of work to know that her wounds would not have killed her immediately. There would have been a period of time, at least several minutes, in which she would have been bleeding out, not dead, but beyond saving. Charlotte had been clever, and nearly as battle-hardened as himself from her days defending LA’s richest and cruellest. She would have known what was happening.

Until the day he dies, he will regret the fact that he wasn’t with her at the end. He supposes he can at least be thankful that she wasn’t alone. Despite the fact that if Amenadiel hadn’t been there, it probably wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

He’ll never forget the way his stomach dropped when he got out of the car, the way it felt like icy hands were grabbing him around the throat when he saw Chloe crouching over her body. Felt the world come to a screeching halt as he ran to her, held her, howling at the injustice that had taken her from him so soon.

Amenadiel takes his time before answering the question. Dan rather thinks that he’s debating whether to lie to him or not.

“She asked me to stay so she wouldn’t be alone.” He bows his head. “I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t heal her. But I never would have left her. But yes, she was scared, at the end. I think she still thought she was going to go to Hell.”

Dan appreciates his honesty, but he won’t deny that it hurts to hear that. Her last moments were full of pain and fear.

“Even if she had, I think Luci would have seen to it that she didn’t stay there,” says Amenadiel, with a sidelong glance at his brother, still at the piano. “He was fond of her, he would have found a way.”

“Did she know?” He gestures vaguely at Amenadiel’s shoulders, to where he imagines his wings would be, if he could see them.

Amenadiel nods. “Yes, she knew my true identity. Lucifer’s too.”

“She never told me.”

“Would you have believed her?” asks Amenadiel, gently. “Luci’s been saying it for years, but it still took seeing his true form to make you all believe him.”

Dan considers that. He’s not altogether sure that the two situations are the same. Even without being the Devil, Lucifer is larger-than-life. He lives a colourful, opulent, somewhat mad life. It’s not so much of a stretch to think he might believe himself to be more than he is. It’s not lying if he believes it, after all. But if Charlotte had come to him and told him what she knew, honestly, and without fanfare, Dan likes to think he would have believed her. But he supposes that he’ll never know.

Amenadiel raises his glass in the direction of the bartender, who nods, and immediately sets about fixing him another drink.

“For what it’s worth”, he goes on, “I am sincerely sorry for my part in her death. She was a good person, and should have had longer on Earth.”

Dan agrees wholeheartedly. They’d been on the verge of something very real when he lost her. They were dating properly, not just having sex. He was getting to know her children better. He’d been thinking about places he could take her the next time he got vacation. He and Chloe were on good, friendly terms. Work had been going fine. Everything had been going so well.

It hurts to think of her now. The funeral is still fresh in his mind. All her old clients, her ex-husband, family members he hadn’t even known existed, looking at him like he was the interloper, the one who didn’t belong. The disdain turned to hostility when they’d found out he’d been named not only the executor of her will, but as a beneficiary, along with her children.

The funeral was only a month ago, but they’re already beginning to swarm, like sharks smelling blood in the water. He’s already received two crisp, white envelopes with fancy letterheads of law firms printed on them in the mail. Challenging her will. Drawing out the painful process even longer.

These people barely saw her. Barely even knew her, but they’re willing to go against her wishes.

For his own part, he doesn’t care if he doesn’t see a dime of her money. He would trade everything in a heartbeat to get her back. But he’ll be damned if her kids lose out on the future she wants for them at the hands of money-grubbing parasites, that never cared about her while she was alive. He owes it to her. He hopes wherever she is, she can see what he’s doing, that she approves.

“Is she okay?” he finally asks Amenadiel, quietly. “In the Silver City, or wherever she is?”

‘It’s a good place,” answers the angel, slowly, nodding his thanks as the bartender brings over his fresh drink. “It’s quiet, and calm. She’ll be happy there. She will want for nothing. She’ll be held in the highest regard.” He manages a small, grim smile. “The circumstances of her death didn’t go unnoticed.” When he sees Dan’s look of incomprehension, he clarifies. “She sacrificed herself to save an angel. It’s earned her a certain status.”

“But is she _okay_?” Dan presses. “Have you talked to her?”

“I have. She’s a little sad. She misses you, and her children. She wishes she’d been able to see you all once more. She also says she feel cheated, that your time together was so short.”

“I should have told I loved her.”

Here, Amenadiel chuckles, a proper chuckle, with a true smile, for the first time since they sat down.

“She knows. She loves you too.””

Dan chokes on an ice cube. “Did she say that?”

“She didn’t have to. Love isn’t that hard to spot, Detective Espinoza.”

Before Dan can figure out how to respond to that cryptic remark, another disturbance ripples through the crowd, like it did when Lucifer arrived. He’s not quite sure what’s causing it at first, but then he catches sight of the long blonde hair, and understands. Chloe is wending her way through the throng of people clustered around the piano.

The sudden upswing in scandalised muttering when she breaks through the line and approaches the piano tells Dan that this is not common practice for Lux patrons. Indeed, despite the desire of the crowd to be close to the enigmatic owner, there seems to be some kind of exclusion zone around the piano that none of them dare to cross.

If Chloe knows or cares about the exclusion zone she doesn’t show it. Instead, she slides herself onto the piano bench beside Lucifer, and kisses him, prompting more whispers from the watching crowd. She and Lucifer both ignore them, and he resumes playing with a grin on his face. She slings an arm around his waist and kisses his cheek. They might as well be the only two people in the room.

Dan knows Chloe’s not generally one for PDA, and to anyone else in the room this must have the smell of ‘he’s taken, hands off’ about it, but he knows that’s not what this is.

She loves Lucifer. She’s pleased to see him. She likes it when he plays piano. That’s all.

He’s happy for them. He really is. And he can see Amenadiel’s point. You can see it from a mile off, the way they look at one another, with not a single word spoken.

“My brother, the romantic,” says Amenadiel, with a chuckle. “Who knew?’

Dan manages a smile in return, but it is tinged with sadness. He’ll never get to have a moment like that with Charlotte again. At least not in this lifetime.

“You’ll see her again.” Amenadiel seems to pick up on his mood. “That’s the beauty of the afterlife. At least for most people.” He glances at the piano again, frowning, and Dan gets the impression that for all his claims about not being omniscient, he knows something that Dan doesn’t. The thought makes him a little fearful. Does he dare ask?

In the end, he decides not to. It’s probably Secret Angel Business.

* * *

 

Across the room, Lucifer finishes the song he’s playing with a flourish, relishing in the raucous applause. He stands and makes a dramatic, sweeping bow that makes Chloe smile; Dan knows she’s fond of Lucifer’s theatrics most of the time, just not when it gets in the way of work.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re welcome,” he purrs, and Dan watches in fascination as the crowd surges forward, seemingly pulled in by his charm and magnetism. “But you came here tonight to have a great time, and here at Lux, we aim to give you everything that you desire.”

He glances at someone Dan can’t see, makes some kind of hand signal, and then all of a sudden the pounding beat of dance music blasts through the club. The crowd breaks apart as some rush to the dance floor, some to the bar, and some to claim one of the few tables dotted around the place. What was a piano bar five minutes ago is now a fully-fledged nightclub.

Lucifer walks easily into the throng, instantly being offered drinks, and begged for selfies. He basks in their attention.

Chloe, on the other hand, slips quietly from the piano bench, and makes a beeline for their table. On her way, a bartender stops her and hands her a fresh drink, and Dan notices he treats her with much the same deference as Lucifer himself.

“Hi, you guys,” she greets them, having to raise her voice to be heard over the music. “Lucifer said you’d be here tonight.”

 

“We had something to discuss,” says Amenadiel, easily, and Dan nods his assent.

“My head is killing me,” she complains. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to head upstairs and unwind.”

“You might want to grab Lucifer first,” says Dan, as two rather drunk young women seize the Devil and pose for a picture.

But Chloe shakes her head. “He’ll stay down here for a while. Apparently business doubles whenever he’s on the floor. People leave bigger tips and buy more drinks. Go figure, huh?” She chuckles. “I’ll just go up and take a shower, and wait for him.” She tries to stave off a yawn, and then follows Dan’s eyeline to where the other patrons are still clamouring for a moment of Lucifer’s attention.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” he asks. He distinctly remembers her getting all bent out of shape a while ago about Lucifer and Ella, which had been entertaining for him.

She smiles and shakes her head.

“People are always going to be drawn to him,” she says. “It’s just who he is. Occupational hazard.”

“Quite right,” agrees Amenadiel. “That’s Luci.”

Chloe glances back at Lucifer, who catches her eye, and winks.

"He's worth it.”

Stifling another yawn, she bids them goodbye and makes her way across the room to the elevator.

Alone again, Amenadiel turns to Dan.

“Was there anything else you’d like to know?”

Dan has a million more questions, about heaven, about hell, life, and death. Angels and demons. But none of those are important right at this moment. He’s got the answers that he came for. All he can do now is grieve, treasure the memories he does have, and find a way to carry on. He shakes his head, sadly.

“If you can, just tell her I’m sorry for everything. And that I miss her.”

Amenadiel raises his glass, solemnly.

“I’m not quite as adept at human practices as Luci is, but I believe it is customary to drink to a fallen comrade. To Charlotte.”

“To Charlotte,” Dan echoes, and the glasses clink together.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading.


End file.
